Only her eyes move when Levi announces his presence, then helps himself to a drink and the seat across from her. Her head just barely shifts to get a better look at him and his worn state, her finger still hovering over the brim of the glass. She doesn't grace him with the expression of a drunk person, though the amount of alcohol she's surrounded in should indicate otherwise.

Rey's just mostly pissed off that it still hurts. It hurts and it's getting to the point where simply getting out of bed these days has become a herculean effort.

At first she just makes a primal grunt in response to Levi's comments. Very unladylike, as she generally is.

Though after a few tired blinks with bloodshot eyes, she finally speaks. "Will get back to you on that once it starts actually kicking in. Still feels pretty fucked."

Getting hit by a speeding car shouldn't hurt less than this. But seeing as Rey was one of the earliest casualties hit by with this shit, the nonstop agony plaguing the last several days (nine, to be exact) has become nothing but exhausting.

"Could probably kiss any sleep goodbye if it wasn't for Sophie," she mutters, and huffs. Somehow, she manages to drag herself upright just long enough to finish the shot in one gulp, then slamming the glass back down over the table.

Fuck a duck.